


Level of Concern

by simpletumbleweedfarmer



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Quarantine, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, just a good ol'quarantine fic, when life gives you a pandemic you write fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpletumbleweedfarmer/pseuds/simpletumbleweedfarmer
Summary: What would happen if Dana Scully and Fox Mulder were currently experiencing the 2020 pandemic.That's it.Just fluff and trying to make quarantine seem a little less awful with some MSR.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	1. T-0 Days Until Quarantine

“How can I continue work on X-Files at home?” Mulder picks up another yellow number 2 and tosses the pencil at the ceiling.

Scully crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at her partner. “Like you’re working on them now.”

Mulder’s head whips back down from the ceiling to give Scully a hurt look when the poorly thrown pencil falls and hits him squarely on the nose. “Ow.”

Scully hides a smile, shaking her head, pretending to rearrange some files on the edge of Mulder’s desk before he catches her grin.

“I’m serious, Scully. How do they expect me to work when all my files are here? My computer, the FBI labs? How can I continue my work?”

“I guess you’ll just have to take a little vacation.” Scully picks up the files, tucking her arms around them and she holds them to her chest. “It might be good for you, Mulder. Besides, it’s only two weeks.”

“This is on purpose. Locking the American people up? Forcing us to stay home? There is something more going on here.”

“Mulder, it’s a virus –“

“You know what a virus can do. Don’t you remember the bee? The virus?! Scully, you know exactly what these men are capable of. They’ve used a virus before, they’ll do it again.

Scully tried very hard not to remember the bee (that _damn_ bee), but she never really succeeded.

She hated bees now.

“Mulder, it’s a common virus. It’s just a new strain that we’ve never seen before. It’s two weeks and it’s over. You’ll survive.” She nods at her partner, starting for the door across the basement office.

“Just wait and see, Scully, this virus is no accidental outbreak. I’m telling you, someone’s behind this.”

Scully turns in the doorway and gives her partner a knowing look. “See you two weeks, Mulder.”


	2. Quarantine Day 7

_Briiiiing._

_Briiiiiiiiiiiiiig._

Scully glanced at the clock on the wall, reaching over and grabbing the cordless phone off the couch cushion beside her.

Right on time.

“Scully, it’s me.”

“Hi, Mulder.”

Mulder had been calling her faithfully every night, and she had to wonder if this quarantine was affecting him more then he cared to admit.

She had to admit, as this whole stay-at-home thing continued on, she’d started to miss being with people.

Sure, it’d only been a week, but she wouldn’t mind being able to go out and get a nice dinner.

Of course, the restaurants closed a day ago.

“Did you see the news?”

“About the restaurants being closed? I know. I was going to order take-out tonight, too-“

“No! This quarantine being extended another two weeks!”

“Mulder, it’ll be fine-“

“I found this book today. I forgot I bought it, actually, it’s from a psychic, and Scully, she predicts this whole thing. The masks, gloves, the quarantine, all of it. I’m telling you, this outbreak is an x-file.”

“Saying that there will be more masks and gloves because of a virus doesn’t really take much divine power, Mulder. Besides, I’m a doctor, and I’ll tell you: this virus came from a contaminated seafood market. Not any global conspiracy.”

“Scully, it’s because you can’t see this whole prophecy.”

“Why don’t you just read it to me? Wait, Mulder, why does it sound like you’re driving?”

“Because I am.”

“Where are you going? No one is supposed to going out for non-essential purposes. The virus spreads by contact, Mulder. You have to stay home.”

“This is essential.”

“Mulder-“

Scully stops, interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hang on. Someone’s at the door.”

She puts the phone down on the couch cushion, padding across her apartment, peaking through the peep hole in her door.

Mulder waves back.

She holds up her finger, running back across her apartment, reaching over the back of the couch and snatching up her phone.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I wanted to bring you that book. And a few quarantine supplies. You know, cheer you up.”

“Mulder, we can’t be around each other! Didn’t you listen to the news? We have to stay six feet apart to prevent the spread of the coronavirus. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’ll step away from the door. I just think you should read that book.”

Scully sighs, wishing for the hundredth time that Mulder would follow the rules.

She loved that part of her partner – the tenacious, refusing to back down, doing what he believed was right part of him.

She admired him for it.

If only he had enough common sense to know when following the rules was good for him.

“Fine. Just walk six feet down the hallway first.”

“Sure, Sculls.”

She smiles a bit at the shortening of her name, before telling him, “I’m walking out now.”

Scully unlocks the door, tugging it open. Sitting on her welcome mat is a pile of grocery bags, and Scully can only guess on what foods Mulder considered essential.

Perched on the top is that psychic book, one of the pages dog-eared.

Tucking the phone in the crook of her neck, she picks up the bags, noting how cold two of them are, peaking in to see two gallons of coffee ice cream.

“I see you remembered ice cream.”

“See, I told you. Essentials.”

She looks up from the bags and sees Mulder down the hall, diligently standing more than six feet down from her.

He waves at her, before walking into the elevator and pressing the down button.

She waves back, and for a second, Scully feels a little pang in her heart.

Truth be told, up until this moment, she was rather enjoying her forced vacation.

With Mulder, she got so little time at home, being forced to stay put for a bit had been a blessing in disguise. No x-files, no aliens, no running for their lives.

Just calm – but boring – paperwork.

She hadn’t counted on missing it so fast.

Scratch that.

She hadn’t counted on missing him so fast.

Of course, she knew she’d missed Mulder. They’d become practically inseparable. But she figured it would be more of a “my favorite co-worker isn’t in the office this week” kind of missing.

Not the if-there-wasn’t-a-quarantine-and-six-feet-between-us-I’d-finish-what-that-damn-bee-stopped kind of missing.

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts and forget that damned bee.

“Thanks, Mulder.”

“Anytime, Scully.”

“But stay in your house, Mulder. Only essential errands.”

“Taking care of you is essential.”

Before she can respond, Mulder hangs up the phone, leaving Scully standing there, melting ice cream in her hands, suddenly feeling…well, she didn’t know.

She walks back into the house, sitting the bags down by the door while she locks it behind her, setting the phone in the receiver.

Sometimes she didn’t understand that man.

Taking care of her?

She was pretty sure she was better prepared than he was for this thing, but there was something so sweet, so unapologetically Mulder about the whole situation.

Scully carries the bags into the kitchen, opening up her freezer and setting the two gallons of ice cream in, going through the rest of the bags.

Mulder’s idea of “essential” groceries was as eclectic as she might have imagined, with iced tea and chocolate topping the list.

She puts everything away in her small kitchen, pausing for a moment, debating on if she was in the mood for ice cream after all.

“Well, it is a pandemic after all,” she says to herself, opening up the freezer, looking for the open gallon she was sure she still had.

Well, maybe she wasn’t sure.

She pulls out one of the new gallons Mulder just brought, pulling a spoon out of the drawer.

How did he know she was out of ice cream?

_I guess it was an essential errand after all._


	3. Quarantine Day 14?…15?...18?

“Mulder, where are you driving to? There’s a stay-at-home order now. If you aren’t on an essential errand, you could be fined,” Scully pauses for a moment, licking her spoon clean, shoving it back into the ice cream. “I still have ice cream.”

“This is essential.”

“Mulder, if you’re still chasing after that theory that this virus is extraterrestrial, I don’t think it counts as essential.”

“I’m out of sunflower seeds.”

“That is essential.”


	4. Quarantine Day 789…approximately

Scully will admit it.

She would like to go back to work now.

She’d happily chase aliens all day if it meant getting out of her apartment.

Witches?

Bring it on.

Vampires?

Sure.

Killer cockroaches?

Whatever, she’d take it.

She’d just like to get out of this apartment. Mulder’s daily calls had gone from quick, five-minute check-ins to full, three-hour plus conversations. Scully hadn’t talked to the man this much when she worked with him.

“I was looking a newspaper from Wuhan, China where the outbreak started –“

“How did you get ahold of that, Mulder?”

“I just did.”

Scully sighs, leaning her head against the back of her desk chair. That was Mulder for “don’t ask.”

“Did you leave your house for it?”

“If you must know, I met a contact in Washington D.C. for it.”

Scully wanted to ask how he managed to travel all the way to D.C. in the middle of an enforced stay-at-home order she was pretty positive even an FBI agent wouldn’t be able to badge their way through. Her second thought was _he is going to get this virus and die_. “Mulder, do you know how foolish that was?!”

“This was worth it, Scully! This article talks about a light seen over Wuhan days before the outbreak. This virus is extraterrestrial. This is the proof I’ve been looking for!”

“This proof isn’t going to do you any good if you end up in the hospital with this virus, Mulder. You have to be careful. Aren’t you concerned about this at all?”

Mulder falls silent on the other end of the phone, and Scully suddenly feels guilty.

She shouldn’t have sounded so mad.

She was just so worried with him gallivanting all over creation on one of his theories without a thought to his own safety.

“I AM worried, Scully. I’m worried –“ he stops for a moment, and even though they’re on the phone, Scully can sense her partner’s hesitation through the line.

“-about you.”

“About me? Mulder, I’m a medical doctor. I know the symptoms and how to treat something like this. I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you, going down to D.C. like that. You’re more likely than me to contract it.”

“I just want to do my part to stop this virus. Scully, if they’re behind this, then we’re the only ones who can stop this.”

He’s more worried than he’s letting on.

Scully can tell by the strain in his voice, how soft he’s talking.

“Mulder, it will be okay. This isn’t an x-files virus. It’s just a regular virus.”

“Right. I’m going to look into this article anyway. Just in case.” Mulder pauses, and Scully opens her mouth to mention that she’s going to take a shower when Mulder cuts her off.

“Hey, Sculls?”

“Yes, Mulder?”

“I miss you.”

Scully’s taken aback for a moment.

Sure, she missed Mulder and assumed he missed her, too, but she wasn’t expecting him to just…say it.

She doesn’t respond, too taken aback by his sudden sentimentality to respond.

“See you soon…hopefully. Night, Scully.”

He hangs up the phone with a click without waiting for his response, and Scully feels an ache in her heart, like the day she saw him in the hallway.

She should have responded quicker.

_I miss you, too, Mulder._


	5. Quarantine Day .... March 60th

“Scully, it’s me. Listen, my throat hurts, I can’t stop sneezing. I think I have it.”

Scully pulls off her glasses, rubbing her eyes after staring at pages and pages of reports for the past five hours, her concentration broken by her panicked partner.

“Okay, Mulder, calm down. Tell me your symptoms.”

“Congestion, sore throat, trouble breathing, watery eyes-“

“Wait, did you say watery eyes?”

“Yes.”

Scully thinks for a moment, glancing out the window at the trees lining the sidewalk, turning green with the first days of spring.

Then she realizes.

“Mulder, you have allergies.”

“Allergies?”

“Yes. You’re allergic to pollen, probably. My nose has been running, too. That’s all it is.”

“The trouble breathing?”

“You’re either very congested or, judging by the tone of your voice, extremely nervous.”

“I’m not nervous, Scully. At least not when I’m talking to you.”

“Mulder…” Scully trails off, rubbing her forehead. “You’re fine. Just allergies.”

She’d never heard Mulder like this.

So nervous, almost…scared.

Scared for her, scared for himself.

“Hey, Scully…do me a favor?”

“Sure, Mulder. Anything.”

“Tell me we’re alright.”

“What?”

“Tell me we’re okay. That…this will go away.”

Scully’s dumbfounded.

Six (or was it five? Time was basically meaningless in quarantine she’d noticed) years working with Mulder and he’d always been the one with the answers. The one holding the keys to the kingdom, so to speak.

It’s not that he was always right or that she didn’t know what she was talking about it. She’d graduated from Quantico, too, you know.

Mulder’s specialty is the X-files. She’d always been ever so slightly out of her comfort zone with them. She hadn’t begun to spend nearly as much time studying them as Mulder had. She always knew that and accepted it. They just had different areas of expertise was all.

This is the first time they were in a situation that was fully in her area of expertise. 

There was nothing supernatural or paranormal about this pandemic. 

It was just medical.

For the first time in their partnership, Mulder was faced with a case that he really truly had no idea about.

He could grasp at governmental conspiracies and aliens and lights over Chinese cities, but in the end, this was medical.

He wasn’t a doctor.

He was relying on Scully to tell him that yes, medically, this would be okay.

From a medical standpoint, this would be a solved case.

“Mulder, we’re okay. We’re alright. This will be over. It’ll just take a while.”

He’s silent for a long minute and then breaks it with a long exhale, like he’d been holding his breath for a long time.

Since the start of this quarantine perhaps.

“Thanks, Scully.”

“Anytime, Mulder.”

He’s silent again, but he doesn’t hang up and Scully isn’t about to be the one to hang up on him this time.

“Talking to you brings down my level of concern,” he pauses again. “About the virus, I mean.”

She smiles, running her fingers through her red hair. “I’m here anytime, Mulder. It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

“I mean it, Mulder. Anytime. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

He hangs up the phone with a click and she sets it down on the dining room table.

Immediately, without Mulder’s voice in her ear, her apartment feels too quiet. Lonely, even.

She stands up, stretching, before walking over to the wooden end table by her couch, grabbing the TV remote.

She flips it on, tossing the remote down on the couch, leaving the sounds of the news to fill the apartment as she goes back to work.

She slides back into her chair at the table, the news echoing behind her.

“Breaking News, the global number of cases of COVID-19 reaches over 1,000,000 today…”

Scully swallows hard and tries to focus on rereading the line in the report she was writing, trying to ignore just how large that number really is.

“Cases in the United States are over 500,000 now…” the news continues its bad news speech and every word seems to fill the apartment. It’s so loud, even though she’s barely got the volume turned up above a whisper.

She pushes the papers across the table and picks up the phone instead, holding in the one key.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

She grabs the television remote and clicks off the news before Mulder even responds, adding before she changes her mind, “Tell me we’re okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be really obvious, but some of this dialogue/plot was inspired by Twenty One Pilot's song "Level of Concern" which I named the fic after. So definitely check out the song, it's awesome!


	6. Quarantine Day…there’s no such things as days anymore. Every day is just today.

**Quarantine Day…there’s no such things as days anymore. Every day is just today.**

Scully had to wonder about her partner sometimes.

Like if he had _any_ common sense.

Oh, she knew he was smart. That wasn’t the issue – the man had a degree from Oxford with honors, after all.

But for some reason Mulder could not grasp the simple concept of staying in your house during a pandemic _._

For a man so completely freaked out (for lack of a better, more scientific term) about the virus, he sure did leave his house a lot.

Scully figured it was because he was always such a ball of energy, he just couldn’t stand it in his tiny apartment.

Recently, she found herself wondering how he was holding up in that small apartment of his. There was absolutely nowhere to go, and she wondered why he didn’t stay with his mother.

Or why she didn’t invite him to stay here with her.

She tries to push that last thought out of her mind. That would be unprofessional, after all. FBI partners aren’t supposed to share a motel room, let alone an apartment during quarantine.

It didn’t stop her from worrying about him.

She supposes she probably shouldn’t be that worried since he obviously had no problems ignoring the stay-at-home order since he would turn up on her doorstop with “essentials” or to slip “evidence” of a governmental conspiracy about the virus under her door or flowers.

He left her flowers the one time.

She looks up from her book, noting how nice the bouquet looked on her coffee table. Where he found an open florist in a pandemic, she didn’t know.

Every time he appeared on her doorstep, she always told him he should stay at home, beg him to wear a mask in public, and made him walk six feet down the hallway before she picked up his delivery.

But she was glad to see him.

She didn’t like to admit it, but being in this apartment for God knows how many days, alone?

She was starting to lose it.

Scully sets the book down on the couch cushion next to her, leaning back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

Just staring.

There was nothing else to do, anyway.

She’d gone through all the reports, read all the books in her apartment a million times (even that terrible psychic book Mulder had brought what seemed like years ago), and gone for a thousand walks.

There’s a knock on the door that startles her up, and she starts to go for the door, hesitating for a moment to grab the phone so she can talk with Mulder without actually having to open the door.

Then she gives up and just unlocks the door instead.

Mulder’s standing there, and he looks surprised for a moment.

“You opened the door.”

She realizes that she’s standing there, breathing the same air as him, and _definitely_ not six feet apart.

“Yes, I did. As a doctor, I figured that the chances of you being exposed were limited, and –“ she stops, realizing every word out of her mouth was a lie and definitely not what either one of them were thinking.

Or wanted to hear.

“I missed you, Mulder.”

Honestly her own reaction surprised her.

A trained medical doctor, well-versed in how infectious diseases like this one were spread, and who fully understood how important these social distancing guidelines were to flatten the curve was completely giving in to her emotions.

Emotions she didn’t realize ran so deep for her co-worker, her partner.

Mulder smiles when he hears the words, and nods. “I missed you, too.”

“What are you doing here?” Scully regains her composure, brushing back her hair, taking a step back from the door so they weren’t so close at least.

“Just wanted to stop by. My apartment gets a little cramped. Bring you by a few things.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He sits the grocery bags down just inside her door, and nods. “I guess I better go. Don’t want to infect anybody.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea. Thanks for stopping by.” Scully wants to tell him to stay, invite him inside, but her training won’t let her bend the rules that far.

She’ll just have to be patient like everyone else.

Mulder starts walking away, down the hall, towards the stairs, and Scully hears herself go, “wait, Mulder!”

He turns around, stopping. “Yes?”

“Why…don’t you stay?”

“Stay?”

“I’m asking you to stay. With me. Your apartment is so small, and I thought you could use the company. You know…some quarantine company. I know it’s bending the rules, but one of us would be showing symptoms by now –“ she stops, and she runs her fingers through her hair nervously, and then crosses her arms across her chest. “It’d be nice to have some company.”

Mulder smiles, and it’s honestly the biggest smile she’s seen on his face since this disaster began.

“I’ll be right back over with my stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miscounted so there's actually seven chapters, not six! And obviously, please continue social distancing and don't randomly decide to quarantine with your FBI partner you don't live with. Because that's not social distancing. But this is a fanfiction world and I needed them to end up together, so they're going to quarantine together. Obviously. ;)


	7. Quarantine Day….Sometime between March and August

“Didn’t you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?

“I don’t share coffee ice cream.” She dips her spoon back into the bowl, taking another slow bite. “Especially not during a pandemic.”

Mulder sighs, pretending to look disappointed. “I’m hurt.”

“Should have bought enough ice cream for two, then.” She looks over at him, smiling. “Besides, I’m sharing my apartment, isn’t that enough?”

“Still not ice cream though.” Mulder stretches, or at least pretends to, and Scully doesn’t notice, or at least pretends not to, see his arm sneak behind her on the couch.

She also pretends not to notice his fingertips brushing the top of her arm, or the way she’s moved closer to his side without even thinking about it.

You know, Scully didn’t think this quarantine would be a learning experience for her.

But maybe sometimes you just have to toss the CDC guidelines – and your common sense out the window.

Scully moves closer to Mulder, and lays her head on his chest, breathing in his scent, feeling his arm tighten around her.

All those weeks she spent in this apartment alone.

She hadn’t realized how lonely she truly was.

“You okay, Sculls?”

She smiles against him, feeling him absentmindedly run his thumb up and down her arm.

Quarantine is better with a partner.

Everything is better with a partner.

Especially one like Mulder.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She shifts, slightly, as if she could get closer to him. “You being here –“ she stops for a moment, suddenly not feeling as brave as she just was moments before.

“Yeah, Scully?”

“Brings down my level of concern.”

She feels him squeeze her tighter. “We’ll be alright. We’ll be okay.”

She sighs, shutting her eyes.

This would all be over soon.

But for now?

They’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I'm really shocked about how much everyone loved my first MSR fic! I plan on writing some more MSR, but I've also written a Star Trek one and a Firefly story if you guys are interested. Thank you so much again, I can't believe the response! :)


	8. Quarantine...Week?....Year?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a cute little hair cutting chapter to tack onto this story since I just watched Jenna Marbles cutting her boyfriend's hair and thought it would be super cute for Scully to cut Mulder's hair. :)
> 
> Also this probably could have been multiple chapters, but, eh whatever. Enjoy!!!!!!

“Hey, um…Scully…can I ask a favor?”

Scully looks up from her computer to see Mulder standing above her, leaning on the wall beside the desk she’s working at.

“Sure, Mulder, what is it?” she turns back to her reports, gathering up the papers and straightening them.

“Can you cut my hair?”

Scully freezes, letting the papers slip out of her hands, and turns back to Mulder, suddenly giving him her full attention. “What?”

“Can you cut my hair?” he repeats, subconsciously running his fingers through it. “It’s just getting long and since we don’t know when everything’s going to open up from this quarantine, I don't know when I could get it cut. I wouldn’t ask but it’s bugging me.”

Her eyes go to his hair, and she had to admit, it was getting a little long. She liked it that way, though. The way he kept running his fingers through it whenever it bothered him, the poofy, crazy bedhead he had in the morning, the way he messed it up when he was annoyed?

Maybe it was the eight weeks of quarantine talking, but she had to admit. He looks good with his hair a little longer.

It’s such a domestic,  _ married _ request. Cutting the other’s hair.

She’s pleased that he’s asked her, but the fact her heart is beating just a little quicker doesn’t escape her.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s probably be better if you just wait,” she admits, taking her glasses off her face and sitting them down on the desk.

“You must cut your own hair. I mean, sometimes at least,” he coaxes.

“Mulder, cutting my own hair and cutting yours is vastly different.”

He awkwardly runs his fingers through his hair again, and Scully can read him well enough to tell he’s uncomfortable.

Not just with asking her such a personal favor, but also his hair. It’s really bugging him.

“I can try and cut it. No promises with how it’s going to turn out, though.” She gives him a smile, and she sees his shoulders relax.

_ Here’s to hoping I don’t ruin his hair. _

__

“Do you want me to do it now?” she’s sick of reports anyway, and the less time she has to be nervous about ruining her partner’s looks the better.

“Could you?” he grabs at chunk of hair on the top of his head, giving her that begging puppy look that would make anyone’s heart melt. “It’s really bugging me.”

“Sure.” She pushes her chair away, standing up. “I think I have a pair of clippers and hair cutting scissors. Why don’t you get a chair and put it in the kitchen? I’d say the bathroom, but I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us.”

He nods, and she walks into her bedroom, pulling open her closet door.

“It’s here somewhere,” she mutters, standing up on her tiptoes to peer onto the top shelf of her closet.

She reaches up, trying to feel around in the darkness for the black box she knows she stuffed up there when she moved.

She’s just too short.

“MULDER!” she shouts across her tiny apartment, listening for his footsteps. “Mulder!”

“Yeah, Scully?” he pokes his head into the room, and she motions him inside.

“Can you reach up there and get that box?”

“What? Too short?” he teases, a grin spreading across his face.

She throws him a look. “Remember who’s going to be cutting your hair in a few minutes.”

“You know, I always thought you were the perfect height,” he backpedals, reaching up and grabbing the black box easily.

“Mmmhmmm. Take that to the kitchen. Let me get a spray bottle to wet your hair down.”

He nods, and she walks into the bathroom, searching through her drawers until she finds the spray bottle of water she uses for her own hair.

She can’t get over how weird this is.

How  _ domestic _ .

Sure, Mulder had moved in with her during quarantine.

And sure, they’d given up sleeping separately the night she heard his scream from the couch, the product of some nightmare only made worse by the news.

Sure, they were sharing a bed, sharing an apartment, doing everything couples do (well,  _ almost _ everything).

Still.

It felt weird.

Domestic.

Trusting.

She walks out to the kitchen where Mulder is, sitting the spray bottle on the counter and suddenly feeling more than a bit shy.

“Do you know how you usually get your hair cut?” she asks, pulling out the clippers and scissors and sitting them on the counter, putting off the actual hair cutting for as long as possible.

“Um, I don’t really know. Short?”

Of course, Mulder isn’t that picky about his hair. It must really be bugging him if he brought it up.

She plugs the clippers in and turns them on, making sure they still work. She hasn’t used these things since college, and she doesn’t want to think about  _ that _ mistake.

“I think he usually starts with scissors,” Mulder speaks up from the chair, and she glances over at him sitting there, in her kitchen, hands awkwardly in his lap, looking at her with the most concerned, nervous face she’s ever seen.

_ He’s more nervous than I am. _

__

She doesn’t know if he’s worried about his hair (he should be, honestly) or if the whole situation feels awkward and different.

Intimate.

That’s the word she’s been dancing around all evening. Yes, that’s what this whole thing is.

Intimate.

Somehow, it just feels more intimate then sharing a bed, eating dinner together, or cuddling on the couch while watching a movie.

All those other things just feel like them.

This feels like something his girlfriend should be doing.

Of course, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

_ Or…am I the girlfriend? _

__

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, telling herself she’s being dumb and overly emotional about this entire situation.

She stands behind him, and before her mind fully processes what she’s doing, she runs her hands through his hair, combing it back with her fingers.

She feels him relax under her touch, and she smiles slightly, realizing how nice it is to run her fingers through his hair.

_ That is such a weird thing to think _ .

“You like the front longer, right?” she clarifies.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

She realizes that she forgot clips and reaches up and grabs the butterfly clip out of her own hair.

“Part your hair where you usually do and pull out the pieces you want longer,” she instructs. “Wait, I have a mirror.”

She reaches over, grabbing at the mirror that was also in the clipper kit and hands it to him.

He messes with his hair, and she steps behind him, leaning over his shoulder, watching him play with it.

They both look up at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes in the mirror, realizing her hands are on his shoulder, and she’s leaning so close to him her cheek is almost against his.

“What do you think, Sculls? Look good?” he asks, tilting his head and meeting her eyes, their lips only millimeters apart.

“Looks good,” she responds, eyes flickering down his lips for just a second.

She straightens, feeling the blush spread across her cheeks and he gives her a smile.

“All you have to do is sit still and look straight ahead,” she tells him, trying to not sound as flustered as she feels.

“I think I can handle that,” he tells her, as she carefully clips the pieces he wants longer in front of his face.

He looks over at him, and she hides a giggle, and tells him to look forward.

Scully takes the spray bottle, wetting down his hair, running her fingers through it again, making sure it’s thoroughly soaked.

“Did you start cutting, Scully?” he asks, turning his head around towards her.

“Mulder, sit still!” she tells him. “No, I haven’t. And I can’t if you don’t sit still and  _ settle down _ .”

He stops moving, and she takes the opportunity to run the comb through his hair, and at the top, carefully pick up a section, brush it through to the end of the comb, and freezes, the scissors inches from his hair.

_ Here goes nothing. _

__

She clips the hair like she used to badly cut Melissa’s bangs, pointed inward, and she combs the piece back down.

“Well, no going back now,” she mutters, combing the next section and repeating the process.

“How does it look?” he tips his head over the back of the chair, his green eyes meeting hers, staring up at her.

The butterfly-clipped bangs flip back, and he looks like he has antenna growing out his head.

She laughs, and for some reason, looking at him being absolutely ridiculous, she’s never felt more in love with him in her life.

“Sit up,” she tells him. “Sit still!”

He sits up, straightening, and she keeps clipping at his hair, feeling slightly more confident with every snip.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asks, trying to look at her again, and the scissors slip, and she cuts a piece just slightly too short.

“Mulder!” she scolds. “Sit. Still. And I didn’t. I’m guessing here.”

“Will you still be my partner if I have to shave off all my hair after this?”

“I don’t know,” she teases back, combing through his hair again, moving to the next section. “I think you’d look pretty silly bald.”

“Like the Skinman.”

“Yes, like the Skinman,” she agrees, shaking her head.

They’re silent for a minute, and she clips the next section of his hair short, stepping back to check her work.

“You have surprisingly thick hair,” she comments, stepping closer to him again, before starting on the next section.

“Why, thank you, Scully.”

“Mine’s always been so fine,” she complains.

“I love your hair,” he tells her, fulling twisting around in the chair so he can look at her.

“Oh,” she says, taken back by the sudden compliment. “Thanks, Mulder. Now turn around and  _ sit still. _ ”

“I always had a thing for red heads,” he says, turning back around, and she swears the scissors almost slip out of her hands and onto the floor.

“Will you shut up and stay still?” she scolds, sounding a bit harsher than she meant to, the comment flustering her more than she cared to admit.

“Okay.”

He’s silent for a few minutes after that, and Scully worries she ruined the easy-going banter they had going.

She puts her hand on the back of his neck for a second, and Mulder tenses, his hand flying up to pull her hand off.

“Are you okay?” she asks, pulling her hand away as quickly as possible.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. “It…tickles.”

She hides her amusement, and steps around to the side of him. “Sorry,” she tells him.

He looks up at her, and she takes her hand, and gently pushes his head back to staring forward.

“Look ahead.”

He sighs, and she moves closer to him, trying to make sure the hair is all at the same length.

“Sculls?”

“Hmmm?” she steps back from her work, pleased, and walks around to the other side of him, tipping his head to the side.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“Positive,” she laughs, trimming the last side. “My mom sent my dad and my brothers to the barber shop, so, no. At least not on guy’s hair.”

She stands in front of him and asks him to look up. “Not bad. You look fairly normal.”

“Fairly?! What did you do me, Scully?”

“I think it’s an improvement, Mulder. Less crazy.”

“Are you saying I’m crazy?”

“With your previous hair-cut, you were starting to look the part.”

She pulls the clippers and the cord over, behind him, and can’t help but run her fingers up the back of his neck, and he shivers.

He still seems tense, and she gently runs her fingers down his shoulder, feeling him relax.

As soon as she pulls away, he tenses.

She puts her hand on his neck, running her fingers up into his hair, feeling all of the pent-up energy and inherent chaos in Mulder just being Mulder melt away under her touch.

For some reason, there’s a lump in her throat when she realizes this.

He literally only feels at ease when she’s touching him.

Sometimes she’s wondered.

Wondered about everything he’s been through.

The years working the X-Files without her, the violent crimes he’s seen working as a profiler, his sister’s abduction, the gossip and insults traded behind his back that they wrongly thought he didn’t hear.

It’s no wonder the man is always tense. Always waiting for something to go wrong, betray his trust, or stab him in the back.

Of course, everything else hadn’t helped him either.

She’s seen the fear in his eyes when they watch the nightly news, as the case numbers climb.

They’ve sat in hopeful horror, watching cities reopen, Mulder praying he can go back to work, and Scully in horror at the world they’re going to go back to.

A lifetime of paranoia while living through a global X-File themselves.

No wonder he is tense.

“Scully?” he looks back at her, and she shakes her head, realizing she still has her hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry. Just coming up with a battle plan here,” she says, giving his shoulder one last squeeze. “Do you want it a little shorter in the back?”

He reaches up, feeling the ends of his hair and nods.

“Why did you have clippers?” he asks, as she switches them on, starting on the back of his neck.

“They’re from college,” she tells him, inwardly wincing.

“Why? Did you shave your head or something?” he jokes.

“Actually…I did.”

“You what?!” he turns around in the chair, and Scully thankfully pulls the clippers away in time.

“Mulder! Sit still, I almost cut you!”

He turns back around, and she continues. “I shaved my head in college, yes.”

“You mean Melissa.”

“No, I mean me.”

“You mean Melissa,” he repeats, clearly not believing her.

“I swear, Mulder. I went through a punk phase in college. It lasted a semester. I had to go home for break and my father almost killed me. I promised to grow out my hair and we never spoke of it again.”

“Do you have pictures?” he asks, and she runs her hand over the now smooth skin.

“I’m not showing you, Mulder.”

“C’mon,  _ please _ , Scully?”

“Remember who’s holding the clippers, Mulder.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s guessing he’s pouting. Scully gently pulls down the neck of his t-shirt, making sure it looks right.

She feels him shiver again with her hand on his bare back, and then he relaxes.

She smiles slightly, gently rubbing his shoulder, realizing what it was.

Trust.

Trust that she wouldn’t hurt him.

Trust that someone had his back.

Trust she wouldn’t mess up his hair too much.

“Hey, Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He stiffens slightly, and she uses her new-found knowledge, putting her hand on his shoulder again.

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem tense.”

“It’s been eight weeks,” he says. “I haven’t spent this much time not working on the X-Files…ever.”

“We’ll be alright,” she tells him, running her hand up and down his shoulder. “We’re okay. They say they’ll be opening D.C. soon.”

“We won’t be able to travel for cases,” Mulder shoots back. “And I’ll have to leave.”

“Leave?”

“Go back to my apartment. You know, since quarantine would be over.”

“Mulder, my door is always open. You’re welcome to stay longer.” She sits the clippers down on the counter again, picking up the spray bottle instead.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Scully-“

“I will imagine it will take a while to get completely back to normal, so having company while we’re still very restricted with what we can do might be nice,” she tells him, rewetting the top of his head.

“Thanks.” Their eyes meet, and he gives her a soft smile, and she gives him one back.

She unclips his bangs, still standing in front of him, and gently pushes his hair back with her hand. “My home is your home,” she tells him, and she means it.

She never thought she’d admit this but having Mulder around was nice.

More than nice.

Spending so much time with him while trapped inside because of the virus had made her wonder how she’d survived without him always by her side. How she made it without being able to reach over and know he was right beside her in her sleep she’d never know.

“Thanks, Scully,” he tells her, and she knows by the look in his eyes he means it.

She smooths his hair down, taking the comb and brushing it over, and starts trimming it again.

“You’re humming,” he notes, looking over at her.

“Sit still,” she commands, and he turns forward again.

“I am,” she admits.

“What song?”

“Cher,” she laughs. “ _ Walking in Memphis. _ ”

“Our song,” he adds.

“What?”

“It’s our song. We danced to it.”

The blurry memory of that night, the way he pulled her to his chest, swaying to the music, his eyes full of affection, comes flooding back, and she smiles.

“I guess it is.”

“It’s my favorite song,” he tells her, and her heart skips slightly, as she steps around him.

“Look up for me, Mulder.”

He looks up at her, and she sprays down the front of his hair, and he squeezes his eyes shut in the most dramatic way possible.

“It’s just water,” she sighs, unthinkingly wiping the water off his cheek with her hand.

He opens his eyes, and she quickly moves her hand. “Turn your head.”

She starts cutting his bangs, trying to keep them as even and still as Mulder as possible.

She can feel him watching her through the fringe of hair, and she finally finishes, running her fingers through his hair one more time.

“There you go.”

“Thanks, Sculls,” he tells her, looking up at her, and she realizes she’s standing between his legs, leaning heavily on his knee.

“Sorry,” she quickly apologizes, stepping back, and handing him the mirror.

He takes it from her, and runs his fingers through his hair, tilting his hair from side to side, and then making a kiss face in the mirror.

She rolls her eyes, as he looks over the top of it and winks at her.

“What do you think, Scully? Am I good looking?”

Her head tells her to tell him to knock it off.

Her heart, on the other hand, has other ideas.

“You’re always good looking,” she teases back, and the blush that comes over his cheeks is worth it.

She starts putting away the clippers and scissors, and he stands up, shaking the lose hair off of his head like a dog.

“Mulder, no!”

He stops, looking up at her.

“Shower. Go. Now. I don’t want hair all over my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

“Mulder!” she scolds, feeling her own cheeks go red.

It’s not like she  _ hasn’t _ seen him shirtless.

She just wasn’t expecting it.

“What?”

“Just go take a shower.”

He nods, and takes a couple steps out of the kitchen, and then pauses. “Scully?”

“Yeah?”

“I liked it when…” he trails off.

“What? Just tell me,” she says, trying not to look at him, afraid of the blush that’s darkening by the minute.

“I liked it when you played with my hair.”

She hides the smile on her face, feeling awkward, but somehow pleased by his admission.

“Oh brother,” she says, trying to play it off as a joke. “I’ve created a monster.”

She hands the spray bottle to him. “Put this in the bathroom please while you going that way? Thank you. Oh, and…I’ll remember that.”

His face turns a little redder, and she’s pleased she’s made him blush twice.

“I’ll remember you shaved your hair in college!” he shoots back. “I want pictures, Scully!”

She shakes her head. “Go get in the shower.”

“I’m going!”

He disappears down the hallway, and she runs her fingers through her own hair.

It’s getting long.

Her eyes spot the clippers on the counter and for a second, she thinks about it before realizing what a terrible idea that truly is.

_ I’ll just get Mulder to trim it instead. _


End file.
